Life, Death, Really All the Same Thing, it Seems
by gardenofwords
Summary: When a vampire died to save the world, what if he'd taken with him the person he'd have been most reluctant to leave behind? Death is a relative term throughout Buffy. In the tradition of Joss Whedon storytelling, what if Spike's story didn't stop there?
1. Chapter 1

**A** **New Life. Or Death. It's Really All the Same Thing, it Seems.**

Chapter 1

All hell had been let loose and now it crumbled around them, cliffs and walls and debris all falling down as the crater formed and the light from Spike's…whatever he wore around his neck, penetrated the air and outshone the darkness.

Spike couldn't define this feeling…but the power, the helplessness, the strength and weakness, the feeling of…of _feeling_, truly feeling something (besides pure guilt as newly reacquired souls will cause) welled up in him until he thought he would burst. He hadn't felt like this since he was human, and even then…never quite like this. It was a feeling that was not all good, not all bad, but _strong_. And just before he got lost in it, he felt her small hand work its way into his, anchoring him back...well, in hell, though it didn't feel like it now…and his eyes found hers. There were tears in them…tears for him. She was crying for him. He'd seen her cry before, but now she was crying only for him. It made him want to cry, which was not something that happened often. But it also evoked a feeling of elation, seeing her feel for him. Or at least put on a well-performed show.

"I love you." That feeling of elation hit him again, flowing through his body and filling his heart. Oh, he'd waited so long to hear those words. With all of the time he'd spent living, alive and dead, it should only have felt like a few hours, minutes even, but it felt like an eternity that he'd waited…an eternity since the day he'd first realized he loved her. Probably because his entire life before that seemed like a faded and insignificant part of his existence. Buffy had only been alive for twenty-two years now, and as far as he was concerned, his life might as well have begun twenty-two years ago. The world before Buffy meant nothing to him. So it should have meant the world to him to hear her say those words, and yet…

"No you don't. But thanks for saying." Considering how much he'd wanted it, it meant little to him to hear the words now. Because in his mind, despite her tears, the slayer's words rang with insincerity. He was about to die, and she knew it. Her words were meant to be comfort to a dying man, and nothing more. So they were empty to him.

There was not a shred of doubt in Spike's mind that death was seconds away—a death that he wouldn't recover from— and he was perfectly content to leave this life as a hero—a champion, as she'd called him—with the last thing he felt being her warm hand entwined in his. But of course, this was the hellmouth. A person couldn't even die a normal abnormal death on or anywhere near the hellmouth. It just didn't work that way around here. Not even when it seemed like it already had…

Flames consumed his hand and hers. They licked at their fingers, and just when the thought hit him that perhaps her hand wouldn't be the last thing he'd feel, that maybe she'd be sensible and let go…the chance was taken away from her.

The light emanating from Spike's pendant burned its brightest yet, encompassing nearly all of his surroundings…and then he burned. The swelling of his soul and the fire consuming the entwined hands seemed to fuse together into one force, and then in an instant…he was a skeleton…then ashes…then nothing.

*****

Spike felt like he was smiling. But of course that was impossible. How could he be smiling? How could he _feel_ like he was doing anything? He was sure he hadn't just died and gone somewhere else. He'd died in hell, where would he have gone from there—the next dimension over? That would be a bit anticlimactic, wouldn't it? He could almost picture it. He'd just open his eyes and see the others around him mourning their tragic fate...'Hey guys, I was just a few miles over there, hanging out in that dimension. Then I burst into ashes and ended up over here, kind of a hellish teleportation thing, I guess. Is that new?' Mm…no, that couldn't be it. Hell was out.

So what then…heaven? HAH. He nearly laughed out loud at that idea. Although of course that was silly. He couldn't laugh…or have ideas…no, after everything he'd done as a vampire, and the nothing he'd done as a human, there was no way he was in heaven now. As much as he'd wanted to change, to be a good man, for Buffy and then because he felt enough to really want to be a better person, he couldn't see himself strolling along golden streets and being welcomed into angels' open arms.

No, he was so sure that he had to be nowhere, to be nothing. He'd felt himself turn to nothing, and right now, he was okay with that. Content with the memories of his last few moments…of the feeling of Buffy's hand in his and the last words she'd said to him, insincere or not. At least she'd been there. It was enough to make him smile now. But no! Aaah, for all his reasoning, he was right back to where he'd started. He wasn't smiling. He _couldn't_ be. He wasn't sure of anything because there was no him to be sure! He was not content with memories because there was no him to be content and no mind to remember. There was nothing.

And then he opened his eyes. Nope. He'd been right. Darkness. Nothing.

"Spike?"

Apparently nothing could hear.

"…Buffy?"

And speak. And open its eyes.

"Where are we?"

"I think a better question is…are we?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Are you…alright?"

"I—I think so…yeah, I'm fine. Where are you?"

He felt a chill shoot down through his spine, which apparently still existed, when Buffy reached out and put a hand on his arm. She was here. She was really here. Alive or dead, he wasn't sure he really cared. Whatever they were, they were together.

"Oh. There you are. Wh-where are we? Are we somewhere? I feel like I'm floating."

He hadn't realized it until then, but she was right. He could feel no surface under him, see nothing around him. Was he standing up or lying down? He shifted into a sitting position. Right. Lying down then. He stood up and taking the hand she'd put on his arm, pulled Buffy up with him.

From a distance, a speck of light appeared and got slowly larger until the glow it gave off reached them. It was just enough to bathe their faces in the faintest light so they could see each other in the surrounding darkness. But if there was anything in that surrounding darkness, they couldn't see it.

But she was all he wanted to see now anyway. "Buffy…you're alive. You're here. You're…whole." He reached out and brushed his hand against her cheek. He could touch her. He could see her, touch her, hear her, talk to her. She smiled tentatively back at him. "I am. So are you. Do you think we're alive?"

"I don't know. And truthfully, I don't care. As long as—"

What was he doing?? He was a fool, even in death. And he had a strong suspicion that they were dead, whole or not. He yanked his hand away from her face and stepped away from her. Or at least, he meant to. It was hard to tell without a floor.

"But of course I'm sure you're worried about Dawn. And your friends. And the whole post-saving the world thing. They'll need you to help them figure out what to do now, and everything. We should find a way to go back…"

"I'm not sure we can. I'm not even sure we're alive."

"So? I wasn't alive for a long time before I died this time. But we still exist. Don't see why everybody always thinks this whole death thing is the end of it all. I mean, what does it really matter anyway? So long as you can walk and talk and think and feel…which clearly we still can. So I think—"

"Spike."

"Yeah?"

"I meant it. I do love you."

He scoffed at that. "Oh, come on, love, we both know that's not true. You could have had me any time. And I honestly mean that in the purest sense of the word. I was all yours, whenever you wanted me. But you didn't want me. No use pretending you did. Not now, and not before, when you thought I was about to die alone. It is what it is, at least do me the favor of not lying to me."

"That's not fair. I _did_ mean—"

"Don't. Alright, Buffy? Just don't. Now, what do you say we figure out where the hell we are?" He stalked off toward the source of the light, and she followed, for once.

"I'm kind of afraid that's exactly where we are."


	2. Chapter 2: Encounter with an Angel

Chapter 2!! I'm excited about this story, and I hope you're enjoying it so far! If you are or if you have constructive criticism, **please review**!! Thanks. :)

Also, I am not Joss Whedon. As such, none of the characters or anything you read that you've already seen in Buffy is mine. That includes Spike, unfortunately. :( :)

* * *

**Death, Life, Really All the Same Thing, it Seems**

**Chapter 2: Encounter with an Angel**

Spike charged ahead of Buffy recklessly, his eyes fixed on the light ahead and his mind fixed determinedly on the same point. It was everything he could do not to think of her and not to want to believe her words. But he couldn't. They were going to not be dead, he was going to find a way to get her back to her sister and friends, she was going to go back, he was going to let her go, and that was going to be the end of that.

He knew she didn't mean it when she said she loved him. For all the arguments she made now, he'd known her too long to start believing her now. So he pushed ahead in the unfamiliar darkness and she followed, a little bewildered and exasperated with him, though she had tact enough to know that now was not the time to push the subject.

The light ahead grew brighter and brighter until it was absolutely blinding, so much so that they had to stop in their tracks, unable to tell where they were going or if they were even going in a straight line in their already confusing and vertigo-inducing surroundings.

Suddenly the light shifted and grew larger and molded itself into a figure as it grew closer and allowed them to see what it was.

"What is it?" Spike, who knew of every type of evil, grotesque, horrific demon that had ever been in existence, could not name this beautiful being for the life of him. Which isn't saying much. But still.

He looked like a man, really. He had a human-like figure, though his face was mostly obscured by the brilliant light emanating from him—it made the rest of him difficult to see clearly, as well. The man was clothed in robes of purest white that draped over him in a way that somehow suggested power, but a fluid, liquid, almost gentle power. Spike and Buffy, when they saw the figure, were immediately struck by the fierceness and aggression radiating from him, but also pure…goodness. It seemed an awfully strange combination to Spike. Whatever this man was, there was a powerful goodness to him, and there was not a half-second of doubt in either of their minds that this was no demon.

"He's an angel," Buffy breathed, not taking her eyes off the man.

"A…what?"

"Spike, I've been to heaven before, remember? I'd never forget the angels."

"You're trying to tell me we ended up in heaven? Well, that can't be right, can it?" Buffy, over her confessional mood, just gave him an annoyed look.

"Uh…hello?" Spike gestured to himself. "Demon from hell, remember that, love? Who in their right mind would let me through the pearly gates??"

"No one."

"Absolutely. And—_hey_."

"This isn't heaven."

"Yeah, then what is Holy Boy doing here? _What?_" Spike added indignantly, seeing Buffy's face.

"Show a little respect."

"To who? I thought this wasn't heaven."

"It's not. But that _is_ an angel."

"And angels belong in heaven. Who knows? Maybe somebody up here owed me money they forgot to pay before…"

But Buffy was shaking her head emphatically.

"No. Spike, I'm telling you. Heaven isn't something you just forget in a day. What it looks like, what it sounds like, what it _feels_ like…and it isn't this. All of this darkness, the aloneness. This isn't heaven."

"Well, it bloody well isn't hell. If there's one thing I know about, it's hell…well, and where to find the cheapest blood. There's this one butcher shop on tenth street, hole-in-the wall place—"

"SPIKE."

"Right. I know about hell. And I know we're not there 'cause we're not burning to a bloody crisp. Or that's how it feels anyway. Without the relief of turning crispy and crumbling away into ashes. I'd take this nothingness over that any day."

"Well, I guess that puts us back to square one then."

While she was still trying to work it all out, something like a cannon shot sounded in the air, and Buffy and Spike felt a blast of heat as something on fire shot through the air just above their heads.

The angel moved just in time to avoid being hit by the flaming missile.

Spike ducked instinctively…and ineffectively. The ball of fire was long past him. "What the bloody hell—?"

"You speak of what you say you know," came the quiet but commanding voice. The low whisper somehow boomed over everything; it seemed to reach to the far corners of the emptiness. "And yet you greet spiritual warfare with nonchalance. If you truly understood where you are, and in between whose armies you cower, you would not be so callous."

The angel loomed tall above them. Some of the light surrounding him seemed to fade, just enough so that they could see his face, which seemed regal, important, and at the moment, disapproving.

"I'm sorry, O…Shimmering One," Spike said, bewildered, and began a mock bow towards the ground…or rather, where the ground should have been.

But before his knees were even bent, an insubstantial blow knocked him off his feet and the booming voice resounded in the air again, more powerful than the cannon sound of the flaming missile.

"YOU WOULD BOW TO ONE LESS THAN GOD? And if that were not enough, you would mock an angel of God? Truly you have no concept of where you are or to whom I answer."

"I'm sorry, mate," Spike said, looking as though he really meant it. "I—I don't really know how this angel thing works. I was never much for the bright and white and pure and all that."

"I know what you are. And I know what you've done."

"Yeah, I know, I've killed, I've murdered, I've…you've got flaming missiles flying your way mate, is this really the time for the lowliest of all the creatures of hell lecture?"

Buffy tried to chip in. "Please…sir…can I say something? It's not what you think. Spike's changed. He has a soul. Don't you guys, like, keep track of those?" Buffy asked, honestly confused. "Like a naughty and nice list or something? If you look back through your records, I think you'll find one missing from the naughty—"

"I am well aware of the lives taken by the hand of the so-called 'William the Bloody.' Those were not the acts to which I was referring."

"Oh," said the two, in unison.

"Did you not suffer torturous blows to protect an innocent girl? Did you not countless times endanger your own existence to save the lives of those you cared about? Did you not even, in fact, save the human world? We know of your life, William, and you are correct in your assumption that you are not in hell."

"But…this isn't anything like I remember heaven being…" said Buffy tentatively. Her forehead creased as she looked around the darkness in bewilderment.

"Of course not. I think you'll find you haven't forgotten heaven. It is not a place to be forgotten."

Buffy smiled, somewhat sadly. "I guess most people don't ever have the chance to forget."

The angel fixed Buffy with a piercing stare. "Chance?"

"Burden…of forgetting," she amended, "I guess would be a better phrase."

"But you coped with your time on earth," said the angel, and it was clearly a statement, not a question.

"Yeah…I…I kinda wasn't ready to leave it again. I had a sister there to protect, friends who've already had to deal with my death once—"

"Hey, it wasn't a walk in the park for me either, you know—"

"But you never forgot what you left behind."

"No…never. The peacefulness, the serenity, the love…"

"Hey, I hate to careen down memory lane here and break up the reminiscence party, but…could somebody _please_ tell us where the bloody—where we are?"

Buffy and Spike looked up at the angel expectantly.

"You are in the chasm that lies between heaven and hell, in the midst of one of many, many battles in the war for God, for humanity…the war for good to win out."


End file.
